Epilogue

Seven Years Later

"Oh, haven't you got your hands full?" a kind-looking elderly woman says as I walk by her in the park.

I grin. I've got our toddler Anya strapped to my chest. The twins—Roman and Kyra—are in the stroller, and our oldest, Stefan, walks by my side. He's tall for his age, holding my hand with a smile that reminds me so much of his mother.

"He's a showoff, huh?" Stefan says, making the lady chuckle.

I laugh and ruffle his hair. "You're Mr. Popular, kid."

He beams up at me. "I like making people laugh."

"Never lose that," I tell him.

We walk to the other end of the park, across the street, and into the gallery. It's lunchtime, a few people milling around. A couple of college students are having an art debate.

"Daddy, can I walk around?" Stefan asks.

"Yes, but you know the rules."

Stefan has a no-apps cell phone, meaning he can call me but can't access the internet or any apps. As he walks around the gallery past his mother's work, which is more mature than it once was but still brimming with the same raw talent, I push the stroller to the back office.

My wife sits at the window, sketching something from across the street. She turns when she hears me. She's wearing a baggy shirt, the sleeves rolled up, with flecks of paint. Her hair is gorgeously messy. As she stands, her curvy body stirs things in me. We're in parenting mode right now. I have to save this until we're alone later.

"This is a nice surprise," my wife says.

"Momma!" Anya beams.

My heart floods with love when Lia takes our daughter, then leans down and kisses the other two. She smiles at me over Anya's head. "Stefan on an adventure?"

I laugh. "He's obsessed with your work, and I can't blame him."

Her smile makes my world better every single time.

THE END